Reaching Out To The Homeless

Miami — The sun is starting to rise. Already, Officers Peter Romero and Francisco Barbeito are on the job, bidding the city's homeless good morning.

Rise and shine.

Most know the drill. They get up. Start to roll up their blankets.

They've got two choices now: accept help or go to jail. Most pick the Miami police van that will take them to a shelter.

There are only 10 beds this morning, and police have to let the rest of the men and women go. Either way, the officers say they'll encounter most of them again.

"It's a temporary solution to the problem," Barbeito said. "Then it's up to the person. It might not be the first time we encounter them, it might not be the second, but at some point something in their head might click."

It's been five years since Barbeito and Romero helped launch the Miami Police Department's homeless detail. The detail, which has grown from three to six, was started in the aftermath of a 1992 settlement between the city and the American Civil Liberties Union, which claimed city police harassed the homeless in a deliberate effort to drive them out.

Since then, all police officers go through sensitivity training and the department has cultivated stronger relationships with groups that run homeless programs. But Barbeito and Romero stand out, going out of their way each day to help people on the streets, said their boss, Sgt. Gene Kowalski. The two police veterans recently were named the department's Most Outstanding Officers of the Year in 2001 for their work with the homeless.

"I've seen them take some of these guys to lunch," Kowalski said. "They're not just police officers, they're social workers."

The job is not easy, he said.

"These officers do it every day while everybody else is sleeping," he said. "Most policemen don't want to deal with this."

When Barbeito and Romero were tapped for the unit, both hesitated.

"They're sick. They don't smell that good. But I wanted to see if I could make some changes," Barbeito said.

They make hundreds of arrests each month when people refuse to be taken to shelters. Often, even when the people they meet want help, there's little the officers can do. There are seldom enough beds or places in treatment centers. And the officers have to let them go, saying they should try for a bed the next day.

The problem is so large, so often overwhelming, they said.

There are more than 4,200 homeless people in Miami-Dade County, according to estimates by the Miami-Dade Homeless Trust. The figures have decreased significantly since the county began levying a 1 percent restaurant tax that has generated millions of dollars for homeless programs. But the problem will not be solved until its root causes are addressed, said Hilda Fernandez, the trust's executive director. Among them: a lack of employment opportunities and affordable housing, drug addiction and lapses in the mental health system.

Often, the officers have to deal with hostility from the very people they're trying to help.

A man walking by glares at the officers.

"Why don't you go out and get bin Laden?" he asks.

Their daily frustrations are sometimes, though rarely, offset with success stories. There's the former University of Miami football player whom they plucked from the streets after a messy divorce and drug addiction; now, they hear, he is back on his feet. The suicidal man they helped guide into a drug rehabilitation program. The woman with the 8-year-old daughter they took to a shelter; she's now working.

"We keep a log of these guys," said Romero, who takes photos and fills out a pink slip with brief descriptions of the people he meets. "There's so many names. After a while, you treat them on a first-name basis."

J.C. Dawson said he was living on the streets after he came from North Carolina for a job and had his wallet stolen. On a recent morning, police asked him if he wanted to go back home. The officers made arrangements to get him a one-way bus ticket. Wearing a T-shirt that read God is Good, he took them up on their offer.

He said he never would have considered turning to police for help but was glad they approached him.

"They're all right," he said.

Diana Marrero can be reached at dmarrero@sun-sentinel.com or 305-810-5005.